December 11, 2008

Is Jay Wexler only saying that because his name happens to produce snappy nicknames? We're not all that lucky.

I agree with Wexler's view that the lawprof should call students by their first names. But does that mean students must call the professor by his or her first name? I think not. Does that seem unfairly unequal? I just said don't call the professor by his or her first name. You can use the all-purpose "first name" for a professor: Professor. Sample dialogue:

Hi, Joe.

Hi, Professor.

See?

Oddly -- as you may know -- I dislike being called by my first name -- by anyone. I don't even think of myself by my first name. Frankly, I don't even consider it a name. ← See? I had to write "it."

In the fall of 2007, I spent about six months traveling to all sorts of interesting places where big church-state Supreme Court cases came from. I wanted to visit the people who were involved in the cases and see the places where they actually happened. I went to an Amish farm, a high school football game in East Texas, the U.S. Senate, a community of really Orthodox Jews in New York State, a Santeria get-together in South Florida, and downtown Cleveland. Inspired by books like Sarah Vowell's Assassination Vacation, Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself to Live, and Steve Almond's Candyfreak, my book will tell the story of this trip while also explaining the basics of church-state law and making jokes.

AllenS--From what I've read, Althouse's parents were into minimalist names. Her sister is Dell--not a nickname; that's her name.

I knew a girl in high school whose parents were similar minimalists. Like Althouse's parents, they were both in the Army in WWII. I think it may have been something about the atmosphere of efficiency and no nonsense of the Depression and war years that affected them, but my friend's parents also named her "Ann." But they took it one step further, and spelled it "An." They were Caucasian, so it wasn't an Asian name of any sort. Just a name just stripped to essentials.

She had a brother with some sort of short, weird Palinesque name, who, in fact became a math professor. I can't remember his name, because it was so embarrassingly strange for the time. I think he probably doesn't remember it either, because, well, he's a math professor.

It makes one wonder what our currently fashionable system of decorating our sentences (i.e., punctuation, italicization, *adornment*, &c.) will look like in 300 years or so.

We have a hard enough time nowadays with the Manner in which those Englishmen and Others of Yore handled their nouns, now try to imagine how our language will look after a couple of centuries on the internet. Egads.

Having considered this I find myself much more sympathetic to Cormac McCarthy's approach.

Why not show a little respect for them and for tradition (an alleged conservative value) and call them Mr. or Ms. Student. (Not that Ms. is traditional per se but you do have to be politically correct.)

Joe M: Read some of Sir Archy's comments around here if you want adornment.

If we're having a "Name That Althouse" contest, it's a hard one, because knowing the online person as we do, it's hard to imagine her as anyone other than "Althouse."

Being classically-minded, I would name her "Minerva," or, if we want to get Shakespearian, "Portia."

But the name her parents should have given her, and one I really like for a woman of northern European ancestry is "Freyia." It's a beautiful name with all sorts of good connotations for any woman, especially one as accomplished as Professor Althouse.

I agree that "The" is a better name than "An/Ann." And that's a big part of my problem with my name.

As for alternate first names, it would need to be feminine, but it cannot end in "a." I don't like the uh uh sound with the last name.

"She had a brother with some sort of short, weird Palinesque name, who, in fact became a math professor. I can't remember his name, because it was so embarrassingly strange for the time. I think he probably doesn't remember it either, because, well, he's a math professor."

"Joe M: Read some of Sir Archy's comments around here if you want adornment."

I quite enjoy Sir Archy's comments. I have a fondness for the archaic that runs counter to my desire for clear and straightforward language. Perhaps we English-speakers make up with punctuation what we lack in grammatical intricacy. Though this has its exceptions.

On the one hand, Dickens:Although I do not mean to assert that it is usually the practice of renowned and learned sages, to shorten the road to any great conclusion (their course indeed being rather to lengthen the distance, by various circumlocutions and discursive staggerings, like unto those in which drunken men under the pressure of a too mighty flow of ideas, are prone to indulge) ; still, I do mean to say, and do say distinctly, that it is the invariable practice of many mighty philosophers, in carrying out their theories, to evince great wisdom and foresight in providing against every possible contingency which can be supposed at all likely to affect themselves.

On the other, McCarthy:If much in the world were mystery the limits of that world were not, for it was without measure or bound and there were contained within it creatures more horrible yet and men of other colors and beings which no man has looked upon and yet not alien none of it more than were their own hearts alien in them, whatever wilderness contained there and whatever beasts.

I'm not sure I see his point. Yes, it would sound silly to say, "Hi Ms. So-and-so," (e.g. "Hi, Ms. Smith.) But to say "Hello, Smith," doesn't really. It might sound a trifle old fashioned, but that shouldn't stop one.

What I find interesting, however, is what happens after graduation. My view is that, when you grab the diploma, I become "Rick." With the exception of one woman, who is the same age as I am, they all refuse to comply, including one former student with whom I have frequent ongoing professional interaction. I wonder, if others here, including the Wexmeister, have noticed the same thing. My colleagues have.

This is perfectly natural. Even when the apprentice finishes his apprenticeship, the master remains the master. The junior and the senior remain junior and senior.

Oddly -- as you may know -- I dislike being called by my first name -- by anyone.

I did not know this, and apologize for frequently giving offense.

As for alternate first names, it would need to be feminine, but it cannot end in "a."

I often read this admonitory passage: If you have a tip on what I should blog, email me at annalthouse (at) gmail (dot) com. as "email me at anna lthouse." I suggest the nom des tubes of Lt. House. (Quick: What was the movie in which Mrs. Outhouse requested her name be pronounced as O'Thoosey?)

If you were my daughter, I'd nickname you Addy.

That would have been ok until 1990 or so, but nowadays, Addy carries associations with historic American dolls, and Attention Deficit Disorder.

I apologize. I did not know you don't like "Ann". But just "Althouse" sounds quite rude to people of a certain (i.e. my) age. Professor Althouse also sounds strange. I don't call any of my colleagues on the faculty "Professor". It would just be weird. I guess I can call you Ms. Althouse.

My grandparents forced my mom and all my aunts and uncles to call them by their first names, and not "mom" and "dad." Especially not "mommy" or "daddy," they really hated that. Their reasoning was, 'how would you like it if we called you "Son" or "Daughter"?' They were insane, btw.

And the same thing went for the me and the other grandkids. Instead of "grandma" we had to call her Jane.

As far as Althouse's new name...I vote for ANNIE. It's cute, close enough to the original, and it's one of my favorite movies.

"Oddly -- as you may know -- I dislike being called by my first name -- by anyone. I don't even think of myself by my first name." --> I take it I would never call the good prof "Prof. Ann" on here, then.

I don't see what the fuss is about. You could have been named Sam - the female equivalent of a boy named Sue - a cruelty that some parents actually impose on their daughters. Or Chastity. Or Sunday Rose, Rose being not good enough for ditzy Angelina Jolie. Or who knows? Starburst, Starfish, Mirth, Galaxy, one of those kooky age of aquarius names kids were saddled with by their hippydippydoo parents. Ann? Peace a' cake.

It occurred to me why Prof. A feels Ann is undistinctive. Where I grew up, "Ann" was hugely popular as a middle name for girls born during the baby boom. Most of the remaining girls had some variant of "Mary" for a middle name. Being named Ann thus must be as undistinctive as a Muslim boy being called Muhammad. (Catholics dominated the returning GI tract in which I was raised. Baptists and Presbyterians were no more numerous than Buddhists and Bahais are today. Mary is the Mother of God, and Anne was Mary's mother. Joseph, God's stepdad, fills a similar role for the middle name of Catholic boys.)

Not to stereotype Prof. A, but I would suspect that she experimented with her name as a high schooler. The same drive to redefine themselves that produces a Teri Hatcher causes some young women to change their name entirely.

It sounds nice with Althouse. I know that I have referred to you by your first name before, I will not again, sorry for the mistake!

I had a friend in college whose last name was Leventhal. He became "Levange" and later, "the Levange" and finally just "the." We collectively decided that he was an archtype unto himself, and worthy of the distinction.

Call you by your last name or the title professor? Hate to be a five cent shrink but this sounds like intimacy issues and not that you don't like your first name. Any substitute name would only be a mask since it would not be your real identity. What happens during sex? Your lover says, "Oh, oh, Althouse, ohhh!" If you were robbing the cradle with a much younger student I suppose, "Oh Professor Althouse!" during orgasm might be deliciously naughty but in any other scenario... weird. Apparently your first name should be Mistress, as in "Yes, Mistress Althouse, I am here to serve you."

A cat that has been named Fido has been made a clown. I think John Hollander wrote that somewhere, probably in Raritan...

Yes.

Talking to our cats. It is their very independence of us, their mythical self-sufficiency, which makes them so malleable, like language itself. They do not possess, but rather are, a kind of language, and one is always taking cats figuratively. We interpret them when we address, and then respond to, their silences, whereas we merely come to understand, without intervening fables, models, or metaphors, our dogs. Cats are named differently from dogs, not in that ``Fido,'' ``Rags,'' or ``Spot'' would be inappropriate (there are cats so named, cats who have been made clowns), but because feline names are never in a true grammatical vocative. Cats never respond to their names per se, as do dogs. Their names are the titles of poetic texts, the names of tropes, into which all of the uncharacterizable life of each particular cat seems to grow. We read the cat as we do an unfolding book, and our glossing of its invisible expressions is like moralizing a dark, pregnant myth. Our discourse is with a fable we have invented, albeit in order to explain one of the most compelling of presences, a domestic spirit. Its response to us, and ours to it, are both parts of a parable.

"As far as Althouse's new name...I vote for ANNIE. It's cute, close enough to the original, and it's one of my favorite movies."

No, don't call me Annie. I'd rather be called Annikins than Annie. I don't identify with Annie at all. No one has ever called me Annie. I've been called Annabelle and Anna Banana more than I've been called Annie.

"I take it I would never call the good prof "Prof. Ann" on here, then."

If my name was Prof. Ann, I'd be writing ProfAnity.

ricpic said..."I don't see what the fuss is about. You could have been named Sam - the female equivalent of a boy named Sue - a cruelty that some parents actually impose on their daughters. Or Chastity. Or Sunday Rose, Rose being not good enough for ditzy Angelina Jolie. Or who knows? Starburst, Starfish, Mirth, Galaxy, one of those kooky age of aquarius names kids were saddled with by their hippydippydoo parents. Ann? Peace a' cake."

"Maybe Palladian or Chip Ahoy could create a logo or sign that incorporates or invokes vortex, law, blog, art, and the like into an image."

A simple spiral will do.

"Would "Annabelle" work?"

Some people called me that when I was a child, but they were trying to annoy me.

Richard Lawrence Cohen said..."You may call me Terry, you may call me Timmy,You may call me Bobby, you may call me Zimmy,You may call me R.J., you may call me Ray,You may call me anything but no matter what you say You're gonna have to serve somebody"

Hi, Richard.

"It occurred to me why Prof. A feels Ann is undistinctive. Where I grew up, "Ann" was hugely popular as a middle name for girls born during the baby boom."

Yeah, it's like a space keeping the first and last name separate.

"Not to stereotype Prof. A, but I would suspect that she experimented with her name as a high schooler. The same drive to redefine themselves that produces a Teri Hatcher causes some young women to change their name entirely."

I probably put an "e" on the end a few times.

zeek said..."Call you by your last name or the title professor? Hate to be a five cent shrink but this sounds like intimacy issues..."

And your point is?

"Perhaps, if you're not satisfied with your vanilla, white-girl American name, you can change it to Hussein."

LOL. Whatever happened to those fools?

"I'm not sure Althouse is really looking for suggestions (and what? nobody liked "Salty"? lol), but initials are pretty interesting, in place of full of names. Like "E.A" (Elizabeth Ann)."

"I know a lot of Colonels not a one of them likes to be addressed as such outside of the military environment-but then the guys I know are awsome human beings."

That's nice. And sure, it would be off-putting if a Colonel went around demanding that he be addressed as "Colonel," but if others wished to address him as such as a sign of respect for his service, it would hardly be the same as those English titles to which our forefathers objected.

Eleanor(e) is a nice name, too. Though I am surprised it's the Turtles and not the Beatles that spring to mind.

I suggested Annabelle thinking of a song (perhaps this song and my preference for "Eleanor Rigby" should indicate something about my taste in theme for pop music?), though I cannot bring to mind any songs about "Ann."

You took my arm and you broke my willYou made me shiver with a real thrillYou took my arm and we walked alongDown the road to a quiet songI looked into your cool cool eyesI felt so fine, I felt so fineI floated in your swimming poolsI felt so weak, I felt so blueAnn, my Ann I love you AnnMy Ann I love you right now!

Althouse is a great name for a blog but Ann is kind of generic. I can see why you don't care for it.

Now I know an artist named Fred Stonehouse. I just love that name. The name Stonehouse is great on so many levels. Fred is a funny name but on him it works because he's a larger than life person. Just the opposite of what I picture when I hear the name Fred.